driving John and playing puzzles

shells & cheeze, broccoli, crescents, a couple of pieces of candy

Something about being out in the country, driving around. And then I'm in town and there's right-wing John from the restaurant, he's apparently stranded/broken down. I pull slowly over, he recognizes me, comes to get in. Suddenly there's his wife too, and they both want to ride in front, so we cram in on my bench seat. WTF? I'm gonna give them a ride home, but then I realize that they live all the way downtown. A pain, but no real problem.

Then there are these folding paper shapes that form into 3D geometric hinged forms, a ring of pyramids that hinge together, others. After messing about with them, I realize that they actually all fit together into a greater form. I start to put it all together, it's kind of tight and you have to push hard on them, but they're paper, so not too hard. I need to find more of the parts, so I can figure out what the final product will be.

dreaming in red and black

tamale pie, fruit salad, & choco chip cookies at marsha's

Don't remember the plots or themes, but as I knew I would, I dreamed about the OBU last night. And I think it was couched in a video-game-world.

island hopping post-apocalypse style

nachos, water, a couple jelly life savers

First portion lost. But we’re living in a post-apocalyptic world of sorts. A water world dotted with islands, all within a stone’s throw. My little gang and I see an island out there we think will be useful. But there is a longer stretch of water between, and also many many birds. I comment that this place is “bird heaven.” My female comrade responds, “No, not heaven.” We dive in and start swimming. At some point I realize that while I can get my head up high enough to still breathe, I can’t seem to upright myself in the water. I don’t panic, but I do feel some anxiety. I figure out that instead, I can summersault under the water and come up face-up. I do so, take a pause. The others pause and wait for me-- they know I’m not the best swimmer in the group.

Ac ross this bay, there is a giant, wierd structure. Huge white upright timbers soar into the sky in two rows, supporting giant white panels. A vertical channel is created, leading from one island to another. The local prince has erected this thing so that he can cruise his giant boat back and forth without his guests being bothered by seeing what the world is really like. I wonder why they wouldn’t want the view of this beautiful place. (Really, the place is gorgeous; the islands are all lush paradises.) We pass the prince’s channel and are nearing the island in our sights.

There are gardens and orchards here. An old couple keeps this place. We don’t mean any harm, we’re just after some food and there’s plenty here. I with a group of probably 4 or 5, including the girl, and Delfino. At an apple tree, the old woman (jeans and a denim shirt) catches us and confronts us with a sort of shotgun. But it’s obviiously a home jobby, the barrel is a thin piece of pipe, the tip curled back in. I wonder if this thing shoots anything more than a ping-pong ball or rock salt. I take a run, heading around a low hill that supports a house. She won’t be able to keep up, and certainly won’t have the chance to stop and aim that shabby weapon. I translate down to all fours to gain speed, my hands grabbing into the sod and throwing myself forward. I hear her yelling, and maybe even feel something hit my neck, but only a tiny sting. We’re away from her, and up into the house area. Her old husband is there. He’s far less confrontational, but my crew will have none of it. They want to lock him into a small room. I feel bad about the plan, though I know it will be okay. We shut him in, and can’t decide if we should nail the door shut. I’m opposed. Maybe we can just simulate it? Or should we shove pennies in the door?

refugee family on the train

chicken, peppers, feta sammies, spicy carrot sambal, too many pepperidge farm cookies

My family is trying to escape on the train. We're on with Carlos Castenada and F. Garcia Lorca, but the guards find them and kill them. We get off the train andn into a car to do some sort of sabotage out amongst lush green rolling hills, then we have to flee fast back to the train and sneak back on, all kind of A-Team.

Back on, we are in a sitting room, all 70's colors and shag, grandpa Hoyt is there, but he's an elderly black man, and not the same person at all. But still very imposing and somewhat intimidating. Rachel is there with her fiancee, who is also black. I'm certain that it pleases Grandpa that she's marrying a black guy. They're talking about what his life in Albuquerque would be like, and Grandpa points out that life in the north valley would be difficult for him. When we have a moment alone, the fiancee and I are talking a bit, but he doesn't seem to trust me very much, I think he might think that I'm a turncoat. I try to assuage his fear, relate some of my experiences, especially our earlier ride. "Castenada was in a car up front, and Garcia Lorca was back here. They were trying to remain anonymous, but the soldiers on the train recognized them. They went up front, and after a while there were shots."

I killed kate's brother and I'm a whore?

posole, water.

two dreams weaved together?

Part of a group that has broken into the art museum. Or rather, we're going to. I'm touring the museum, through the new, huge spaces downstairs. I compliment Lee on his HUGE new gallery. He seems uninterested. Then my group and I skip off and into an elevator, staff tries to follow us, but we pull down a huge ladder into the car and escape. The ladder goes up several floors, past several open elevator doors. We split up. I'm hiding in a large room, apparently an education center with rows of desks (and cabinets and counters and such for crafts, too). I lay down on the floor, in my flight, completely still. The staff is searching for me, they pass the doorway. I hope that the visual noise of the desks will be enough to shield me, but BV sees me. They have me.

I don't remember it, but I know that I killed KG's brother. I'm pretty sure that I strangled him, but I honestly don't remember. They are grilling me. I begin to weep as I admit that I killed him, and they mock me. I cry and cry, and try to explain that I'm not sorrowful for myself, because I'm afraid of prison, that I got caught; I'm broken and sorrowful because it was KG's brother that I killed, and she doesn't deserve to go through that. I hold her to me. Her hair is a tight perm, I kiss the top of her head.

Through all of the above, I have been flashing to another narrative. I'm a teenager, in conflict with my parents. We live in a big, fancy house, all carved wood & painted white inside. This is definitely back east somewhere. And the house has a TV satellite dish. I leave the house, against the wishes of my parents. I'm out to be with my friends. (But who are these friends?) I get to the dark, rainy square where we're meeting up. In short order, me and a couple of guys are leaning against a low stone wall. I'm naked. My "friend" seems annoyed, because I'm edging in on his turf. We're boy-whores. Do I really want to be doing this? I try to check out my "friends" as they also one by one get naked. Kind of sexy, kind of wrong.

average frustrating work dream

Napolitana with portabellos, silk cake, PBR

At the restaurant. The register has been replaced with this new computer system that uses little 1x1 icons for the foods, and has no descriptors. They look like little album covers, or maybe video game characters. They don't make sense to me. I'm trying to do register, but I can't seem to enter anything correctly. And people won't slow down their ordering to let me figure things out. Two #27's, 2 teas, and 2 different pizzas becomes two green squares with darker diagonal stripes, two orange squares, a picture of a 40's ganster in a fedora leaning against a wall smoking, and some other icon. I don't even know what I'm ordering them. I'm trying to read back, but have to keep erasing the whole thing and re-entering. I confirm the order of a "new yourk guy in a suit." Do we even have a pizza called that?